


Like Rain on Scorching Sand

by thevalesofanduin



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalesofanduin/pseuds/thevalesofanduin
Summary: It is in the remains of his old life, that Luke - not Luke Skywalker, not Luke the Jedi, just Luke - finds the foundations to start building his new one.





	Like Rain on Scorching Sand

**Author's Note:**

> I’m extremely nervous about this fic. It’s the first time I’m writing either character both alone and as a pairing and on top of that it feels like a massive character exploration for both of them so I’m just going to hide now.

It’s dawn when they arrive.

The Lars homestead is almost a dark shadow against the binary suns setting on the sandy horizon that seems to stretch miles and miles away. The sky looks like a painting in hues of purple, orange and a dozen types of blue. The air is laden with a sense of serenity, the scorching heat giving way to a slightly cooler night air and the sand doesn’t feel like it wants to burn through the crust of the earth anymore.

It’s the time that the desert that is Tatooine truly comes alive, although Luke never quite realized _how_ before — before Ben, before Vader, before the Force.

Sure, the family would finally leave the safety of their cool, underground house and he’d often spend evenings fixing the water vaporators with uncle Owen under more bearable temperatures.

But now he notices so much more. Little tremors in the Force that draw his attention to life in what looks like nothing more but a wasteland.

How harsh the sun really burns during the day and that despite it, there is still moisture in the air. Moisture he always theoretically knew was there but now he _knows_ it is, can almost feel it brushing against the thin hairs on his arms.

The soft almost playful trickles of the loose top layer of sand moving, being digged away by insects and other small creatures that during the day seek refuge in burrows underneath the sand. Their soft noises and little movements spinning a tale of lives of their own, lives that for everyone else but Luke seem hidden away.

So much happens here now that he knows what to look for and Luke finds himself tragically unprepared being at the homestead, being _home_.

Just like before — leaving Tatooine, becoming a Jedi, _Vader —_ he is completely out of his depth.

Caught completely unaware by the force of his grief that is strengthened and intensified by a sense of injustice, the feeling of having missed out.

For who knew that he’d be able to feel all of this through the Force? Who could have told him that he would find so much life in such a dead place and who would have taught him how to deal with that realization?

Surely, if anyone would have been able to do so they are dead now and Luke is, as with a many great things, left to figure it out by himself.

Give it a place, this strange feeling.

For grief he had expected to find returning here.

He had not expected to feel as if he missed out on experiencing all that is Tatooine. For not once in his life, being young and lonely with dreams while living on a moisture farm, had he ever felt like he’d missed out. At least not on Tatooine.

_Especially_ not on Tatooine.

Yet he was wrong and now that the time has passed to truly come to love this planet he grieves.

Grieves for the loss of the only home he’s ever known, for the brave young couple that raised him and for the planet he always thought gave him absolutely nothing.

 

——

 

“Shall I wait here?”

Luke looks up, away from the entrance to the homestead a dozen steps away and to his companion.

Lando stands a respectable distance away from him, the shadows of night already falling on his features making his sombre expression look even more grave. There is understanding in his eyes, in his offer which Luke appreciates more than the retreating sun.

“Thank you,” Luke offers as reply, lowering his eyes for a moment.

Lando steps closer then and lets a hand graze Luke’s shoulder in a silent moment of fleeting comfort.

No matter how short it is, Luke feels it down to his bones.

An almost fizzling energy that spreads through him in a wave of comfort that he knows is only partly caused by the Force.

He doesn’t question it — not now, not _again_ — but he lets the calmness of Lando’s touch settle in his own mind.

“I just need a few moments,” he admits and it sounds like an apology because that’s how he means it. He had not expected for _himself_ to see this side of him, let alone Lando.

Lando squeezes his hand around the curve of Luke’s shoulder, warm and short, before he pulls back. “As long as you need, Luke.”

Luke nods a silent thanks before he turns his eyes back to the homestead and walks over.

As he nears it’s like he becomes more aware of everything.

The steadiness of Lando’s eyes on his back, the weight of the poncho on his shoulders, the cracks of the sand as it moves when he puts his feet down with every step.

It’s like both his mind and soul zoom in on the little details, focus themselves on the Force to _feel, feel, feel_.

Savor these emotions that seem to linger in the air, the memories that still breathe from these walls.

When he takes the few steps down to reach the entrance, he blindly reaches out to touch the wall and it’s almost as if he can feel the memories.

He can almost hear the voices from below, echoing up the staircase as if he’s eighteen again. Uncle Owen’s grouchy calls he’s back late, Luke, I knew I should’ve gone to Tosche station with you. Aunt Beru’s soft voice chiding her husband before calling up to Luke to just hurry down for dinner. His own childish indignation as he trudged down the stairs with deliberately heavy steps complaining he just wanted to see his friends and apparently he can’t even do _that_.

He turns his eyes to look at his hand, how out of place it seems laying against the scorched wall.

The scorched wall.

A lump settles in his throat as he’s reminded of thick, dark smoke rising high above the desert surface. Of the panic rising in his chest as his feet carried him closer and closer with dread and devastation curling in his gut. He is reminded of the cruelty and injustice of their deaths.

Aunt Beru, uncle Owen, his surrogate parents dead because of him.

His hand trembles against the wall, as does the breath he sucks in in the hope of swallowing down the tears in his eyes.

Standing there, in the entrance of his destroyed home with grief coiling in his veins, Luke finds a slimmer of insight in the Dark side of the Force.

For oh, how easily could one one be swayed by this feeling.

To let the grief and anger consume him and set him alight with a sense of hate, a momentum of revenge that could so swiftly drag him over the threshold that is the Dark side.

This grief, this fear of loss must be what his father had felt when he was swayed to the Dark side.

It is infinitely worse, to know that it was love that made one evil.

But love is also what makes the Light.

The love for family, Owen and Beru and Leia.

The love for friends, Biggs and Han and Lando — although when he finally dares to face the facts, Luke knows that his love for Lando will shine a different, brighter light than that for a friend.

The love for life, for the galaxy.

There is strength and unity to be found in love, a sense of fear perhaps but in this world there is not  a thing that is simply black and white.

It is impossible to define Light and Dark, good and evil, although Luke is certain that love in and by itself is more good than anything else in the galaxy.

Love, in the end, even saved his father.

Love and love alone.

So standing on the doorstep of the home where he grew up in, tears clinging to his eyes and shimmering in the white light of the moon, Luke reminds himself it is all right to feel this grief. Just as long as it is but a shadow compared to the love and memories he holds for the family he lost here.

 

———

 

He offers Lando Owen and Beru’s bedroom.

“You’re certain?” Lando asks, having seen that Luke’s old room is the smaller one.

Luke shrugs. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep there anyway.”

Lando frowns at the words and softly asks: “will you be able to sleep at all?”

Luke blinks at the intrusive question, looks away from Lando and lets his eyes sweep over the walls of the courtyard. No, he thinks but instead says: “not with these temperatures. We got the power back on, let’s see if the coolth unit will be fixed just as quickly.”

Lando smiles, easily and casually, at Luke’s words. “Sure, might as well if we’re staying here a couple of days. I’m almost melting in this heat and all these clothes,” he says with a laugh and waves a hand at himself, allowing Luke his non-answer while lightening the mood successfully.

“Don’t get undressed yet, I might actually fix this thing you know?” Luke says with a soft laugh, grateful for the distraction.

Lando raises an eyebrow at Luke, leans his head to the side just a tad bit and the beginnings of a smirk pull at his lips. “Shame,” he mumbles.

Luke promptly turns around and goes to check on the coolth unit.

 

———

 

Luke doesn’t sleep.

He wanders around the homestead and after when he finds himself starting to drown in memories he meditates, tries to ground his emotions and center himself.

It’s almost strange to meditate here. To let himself be carried by the almost gentle sway of the desert at night, the shifts in the air as the cooler nigh air collides with the lingering swelter of the day and then the deep and peaceful breathes of a sleeping Lando that almost cocoon him in comfort.

Slowly, as seconds, minutes and even hours pass and Luke lets his mind be lulled into the calming, clarifying state of mind of meditation. Of inner-peace and of acceptance.

It doesn’t entirely wipe the grief from his heart, but at least it lessens it some and enables him to give his sense of injustice a place.

By the time the binary suns start rising above the sand dunes on the horizon, Luke finds he feels like himself again.

Not the almost alien feeling from last night, where at times he wondered if he was walking in the past, in a dream.

“The sunrise is stunning.”

Luke turns away from the sunrise on the horizon to look at Lando walking up to him from the entrance of the homestead.

He comes to stand next to Luke, eyes on the horizon and just close enough that Luke can feel his presence.

“You looked like you could use some company,” Lando offers.

Luke nods, finding that after a night of solitude and contemplation, of grief and of trying to find out which foundations of his life haven’t been shattered, he really can use the company.

It feels comforting to have a presence next to him, grounding to have it be such a steady one like Lando.

There are no words necessary, but somehow Luke can’t stand to watch the sunrise in silence with Lando at his side.

“I used to think the sunrise was the most beautiful thing on Tatooine,” Luke says, unable to keep himself from contemplating how a sunrise is the most simple yet stunning thing. So much beauty in something so mundane, happening each and every day without fail.

Beauty in the mundane, simple things in life.

It’s almost ironic he only realized how much he loved it now that it’s gone.

Another regret here on Tatooine, he supposes and sincerely hopes that when he leaves Tatooine he can leave all of them behind.

“Well you’re almost right about that,” Lando offers, his tone smooth and almost charming and his eyes soft as they glance at Luke.

Soft like the pink and yellow lights rising on the horizon and chasing the dark of night away.

Luke can’t help the bashful smile that touches his lips, unused to such freely given and sincere compliments. Especially as he knows Lando doesn’t expect anything in return.

Lando never does, not really and Luke’s uncertain if he can ever find the correct words to tell the other how much that means to him in a world where everyone wants something from him.

It makes him want to give Lando something in return. Something he doesn’t readily share, something intimate.

He doesn’t have a lot of intimate things to share, though, except his own thoughts, fears and words.

Which he decides will just have to do, so he admits: “the sunrise felt like hope. A new day during which I hopefully could start a new life, a different life. Yet now that I have it…” he trails off, finding it more difficult to actually verbalize his feelings than he’d anticipated.

But Lando seems to understand regardless, gently prodding: “didn’t realize what you had and now it’s gone?”

Luke’s mouth is dry, because yes that is exactly what it is. He nods wordlessly in reply and at his side, his hand — the real, human one — clenches into a fist.

“Yea,” Lando sighs and brushes a hand through his hair and his eyes are tinged with sadness, his lips tight as he admits: “I know a thing or two about that.”

Luke finds himself surprised.

Not at the fact Lando has lost, for that is obvious. It is in every easy smile, in every grand gesture and in so many of his bewitching, charming words. A self-preserving distance that’s been honed and shaped to perfection, barely noticeable to any except those who pay too much attention.

And oh, has Luke done exactly that.

Paid attention, observed, _seen_. Not just Lando’s loss, but also how close he keeps it to his chest.

So for Lando to right out say it means a lot.

And it turns out, he isn’t yet finished for he adds: “it happens, I suppose. When we’re young and not yet used to the kind of place the galaxy can really be,” Lando sighs and his shoulders drop. “You learn, although the process is far from enjoyable.”

It is at this moment that Luke dares a glance at Lando an sees the almost crestfallen, vulnerable expression on that normally joyful face.

He thinks of the words, of the implications.

_You don’t know what you have until it’s gone_

Well, he thinks, I won’t be fooled twice.

He lets his fingers brush Lando’s and without turning his eyes away from the other he softly says: “so in that case we should enjoy the little things.”

His heart speeds up in his chest and nerves twirl through him as he waits for a reaction.

An intimate touch in an intimate moment, normally he would be able to play it off as whatever he wants.

But not now, not with Lando who knows him too well and will pick up on the meaning behind his words without a doubt.

The slight widening of Lando’s eyes is confirmation that he has but then Lando laughs, soft and tender and it’s like cold drops of rain on the scorching Tatooine sands.

“Something like that,” he murmurs and for a moment, Luke feels at peace.

 

———

 

It’s over lunch as they sit tucked away in the shaded alcove that’s the dining-room that Luke finally finds it in himself to ask: ”was it Leia?”

He’d told her, confided in her, that going back here was something he _had_ to do, as opposed to wanting to actually do it. But it was what he owed to the Lars’ family — _his_ family — as well as himself.

A sense of an ending, a way to move on.

Leave his past and hopefully find his future.

So Leia had planned a diplomatic mission that would allow for Luke to visit Tatooine en-route. No time wasted, no suspicions raised.

He hadn’t expected for Lando to join him to Tatooine though and his surprise was even bigger when the other declined staying at Anchorhead.

The thing is, Luke doesn’t mind.

Thinks that if anyone is going to be with him during this ordeal he’s grateful for it to be Lando.

But the other doesn’t have to. Isn’t obliged in any way or shape to subject himself to playing the role of listening ear and comforting shoulder as Luke sorts through the remains of what feels like a previous life.

So he’s almost afraid to hear the answer. To know if it was Lando himself that decided to come or not. For there is so much hope blooming in Luke’s chest now that he fears he will only end up hurt.

“Was it Leia what?” Lando asks in reply with a small frown.

“That asked you to come with,” Luke elaborates. “You could have easily joined later, on the actual diplomatic mission.”

_You didn’t have to pick up the pieces as I come apart,_ Luke thinks.

But Lando shakes his head, says: “it wasn’t Leia,” and as Luke holds his breath at that answer Lando levels him with a soft, affectionate look. “I felt you could use the support. Company, if you will. Leia… approved,” here Lando hesitates for a moment. Seems to consider his next words carefully before softly asking: “have I overstepped by being here?”

Overstepped, Luke thinks almost in amusement. Oh, if only Lando knew.

“No, no if anything I’m grateful you’re here.” Luke lowers his eyes to the table and sighs. Thinks shortly of what it’d be like were he by himself, surrounded by nothing but familiar walls and bittersweet memories.

No support, no calming presence, nothing.

He swallows, imagines he wouldn’t have dealt so well if it weren’t for Lando. Both his presence and words a reminder that Luke isn’t alone. There is a future, even if that might feel very far away standing in the ruins of his past.

A future which is more hopeful than before with Lando coming here out of his own volition.

Lando smiles and shrugs, but there is nothing casual about it. “Someone has to help you carry the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders in some way.”

Luke’s eyes snap up and for a moment he lets the words hang in the air as he ponders their meaning. The depth of what Lando is offering without asking anything in return.

“That someone doesn’t have to be you,” Luke shakes his head.

“I know,” Lando replies and his voice is soft, intimate. “But it can be.”

Love, Luke thinks fleetingly as his heart seems to stop for a moment and he’s enveloped in a warm, consuming rush of emotions.

This is what love is. What it _can be_.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before his feelings threaten to overwhelm him.

He opens his eyes and looks at Lando, admits: “the Jedi, those before me, they forbade attachments. They believed that to harbor emotions so strong for another can lead to fear, to jealousy and can open the path to the Dark side,” his voice doesn’t waver, but his heart does.

It seems to quiver in his chest, protest against the words he’s speaking.

Lando takes a deep breath and leans back against his chair in a casual slouch but it’s obvious it’s only mock relaxation. For Luke doesn’t have to be a Jedi to notice the tightness around his lips or the apprehension in his eyes. The slight tremor to his voice as Lando wonders with a whisper: “and what do you believe?”

_Finally_ Lando is asking for something in return.

An answer.

And as he speaks, Luke finds it’s one he’s been waiting to give. “I think attachments and love itself aren’t the problem. It’s just not that easy,” he shakes his head.

In Lando’s eyes hope shines and his whole demeanour seems to exhale at Luke’s admission.

“I find myself wanting… needing information. Someone to talk to that knows how it was before.” Luke sighs, heavily and burdened and waves a hand in the air, continuing: “but with Yoda gone, there is no-one left to guide me, no-one left to learn from why things were the way they were. I know what I know and what expectations the galaxy has of me and that’s it.”

“Then you make your own path,” Lando offers.

Luke releases a shuddering breath and in his childhood home, sheltered from the rest of the world, wonders in a whisper: “what if that leads me against the Jedi teachings?”

“You live for yourself Luke,” Lando shakes his head and puts his elbows onto the table, leaning closer to Luke and his voice is steady and adamant as he says: “just because you are a Jedi doesn’t mean you owe the galaxy your life or future. In fact, you don’t owe anyone anything.”

Luke’s hand lays on the table, clenched into a fist and he’s hanging onto the words he didn’t realize he desperately needed to hear.

That above all else — farmboy, pilot, Jedi — he is still _Luke_.

“Me least of all,” Lando adds in the silence between them, as if he wants to make sure Luke understands.

“But you are the only person in this whole galaxy who I wouldn’t mind it from,” Luke points out with a smile and tips his head to the side. “I would give freely, Lando.”

He’d never considered how liberating it could be to actually say the words. How he’d feel like he’s soaring and _living_ despite going against everything he should be doing.

Or perhaps, it’s because of it.

“Luke,” Lando whispers with slightly widened eyes and reaches out a hand, intertwining his fingers with Luke and giving the other a happy, gentle smile. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”

Together, Luke thinks with a grin.

He likes the sound of that.

 

——

 

They depart two days later at sunset.

Affairs have been settled and Luke has found a semblance of peace within his own mind.

The past is in the past, he cannot change it. He can only learn from it which is something he will just have to accept and live with, he thinks as he stands a few feet away from the homestead.

“Will you ever come back?” Lando asks from just behind him.

“I don’t think I will,” Luke admits after a moment and thinks of the memorial he made for Owen and Beru at the side of the entrance dome of the homestead. His heart clenches and he grieves still, but “I’ve said my goodbyes. Found the answers I was looking for, both about my past and my future,” he says with a soft smile.

Luke can’t see his face, but somehow he knows the other is smiling too when Lando asks: “ready to move on and look ahead?”

“Yes,” Luke murmurs and looks at the homestead and the familiar and fitting image of the setting binary suns behind it one last time.

Then he turns around to Lando, turning his back to the homestead and his past to face his future.

“Yes I am.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


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